


A Long Way From Safety

by LivefromG25



Series: A Long Way From... [2]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Armie POV, M/M, sucks to be him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 19:59:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13620639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivefromG25/pseuds/LivefromG25
Summary: Another snippet into the inner mind of Armie aka me, projecting my adoration for Timo.





	A Long Way From Safety

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ForYou_InSilence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForYou_InSilence/gifts).



> None of this is real. This is all projection. I wasn’t on set, all mistakes are my own.

It’s late. I am tired but I can’t sleep.

I am writing this letter knowing it will never be seen. That these words exist only on this page. That to speak out about this is something I can’t…– won’t …– can’t… shouldn’t, do. But I have to get this out of my head and there is no-one else I can talk to about this but you.

“ _Because I wanted you to know…” -_  Just as long as you never read it.

I didn’t see much of you today, you were busy filming the day before “Midnight”. I wondered if you  missed me. I chided myself for such a narcissistic thought but had to wrestle the ridiculous smile off my face when you bounded into my room ten minutes after the last cut, “Hey, Armie! Long time no see, you missed me, right?!”…

 _Right_.

You were high, wired and bouncing around the room. I know you do this when you’re nervous, that you feel everything just that little too much and no longer seem to have control over your limbs or your face or your words. Shards of fear flash across your face every now and again when you think you have maybe pushed me too far, been too wild, too immature. I know my own face must look stern and serious. Trust me, that look takes a lot of work.

Behind that facade, I am trying not to smile, trying to sit on my hands so as not to reach out, trying  _very fucking hard_  not to think of ways to  _subdue you_ , calm you down. If only you knew what I was thinking. I am not sure you’d stay in the room for very long.

We discussed the Midnight shoot tomorrow and I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t still anxious or apprehensive about it. You admitted to feeling the same; anxieties that we had discussed at the very start about being convincing enough or not hitting the right tone with either Elio (your concerns are baseless) or Oliver (mine, however…), apprehension about the scene falling flat if the chemistry wasn’t there. You asked me if we could rehearse a little. Despite agreeing that most of our scenes would play out in the moment, this time was different. There was a dance to be had, we had to know where each other was going to land.

I should have been honest with you then. I should have told you that my fears, the ones we had discussed before, were no longer aligned with yours.

Thanks to, as you say “the random luck of the universe”, genuine closeness and intimacy between us has never been an issue. So why didn’t I speak up?

It still startles me, by the way. That luck. The beauty of feeling like I have known you my entire life with the absolute joy and excitement of revealing you piece by piece. It is a surreal experience, peeling back those layers, being entrusted with your secrets and  - through you -  learning more about myself than I thought was left to discover.

But the physical intimacy? I wasn’t quite prepared for that. I remember joking with you before we shot the first kiss scene, knowing where you would be putting your hands. I’d laughed that it was the most action I’d had in a while and would appreciate if you could try and nail it in one take.  

I saw the challenge in your eyes then and should have heeded my own warning.  

Who was I trying to fool? Your hands on me were blissful. I put my own over yours not only for the visual – we were filming after all - but also to steady myself, to stop the trailing of your fingertips, to ground me. I was on fire and so uncomfortable I could barely breathe. Luca saved me. He wasn’t happy with … something – I won’t pretend to know what - and we had to start again. Little did I know that was just the beginning.

I wondered if you were aware of the affect your touch had on me, you seemed so nonchalant, ever the professional. You lay back down ready for take two.

I should have known better. The kiss, chaste, hesitant and careful in the first take was suddenly charged. You leant towards me as you’d done before but at the point our lips were to meet you paused, mouth open. I remember thinking “what the fuck is he doing, this is not how this is supposed to go”. I was about to break character and laugh, positive that you were just messing up, I was no longer looking at Elio but at Timmy… And then you licked my lip. You, not Elio. My whole world paused, out of focus, frozen.  That kiss. Your kiss. It changed everything.

I should have told you.

Tonight, we took it from the foot scene. I prayed that this time would be different, that I could get my head back in the game. That none of this would affect me.

We sat on the edge of the bed and began the scene, your foot coming into contact with my own. So far so good, I thought to myself. “What are you doing?”, nailing my lines like a fucking pro. “Nothin'”, you responded, I touched my other toes to yours and that is when I knew I was in deep fucking trouble. I wish you had warned me about the noises you were going to make. I was hard from the moment you let out that first breathy moan. Jesus, T…

There is a good chance I blacked out because before I knew it you were straddling me on the bed. You exhaled, asked for a pause, touching your forehead to mine. You told me you were scared. No, correction,  _Elio_  was scared. You were so far into character it was beginning to overwhelm you.

I gave you space to breathe, to give myself time too. I could – and should – have said something  _then_. What stops me from being honest about this with you? Stops me from saying, “T, let me tell you something, Elio has nothing on Armie. Armie is  _petrified_ ”.

You left shortly after and I have wrestled with that feeling all evening since. It has changed from before. What was once apprehension about my ability to portray such vulnerability has morphed into something else.

Something I really am not ready to face, or to speak about out loud.  But I must confront it, because if I have any fucking hope of getting through tomorrow it is going to have to be because it was worth it, because being real and honest and true to myself is worth it. Because I am potentially risking everything.

I know that my fear no longer lies in my ability to become Oliver as soon as the cameras start rolling. My fear is that I am not going to _stop_  being Armie. sitting with you on a bed, hoping that you want me.

This is so fucked up.


End file.
